Bastard Next Door
by Dango Attack
Summary: Prussia x Reader Living next to Gilbert wasn't easy. Party every night, concert every week and the sound and screaming pleasure coming from his house every night. Who knows that he was a genius?


The shitty sound of Gilbert's "music" reverberated along the opposite street, across the tarmac road, down your home's little lane, through your tightly locked door, into the confines of your room. It even pummelled through your desperate defences- the multiple layers of egg cartons taped onto your windows to drown out the racket. Obviously, you were horribly pissed at the failure of your efforts, and also at the fuckers down the road. It was the fifth; and last time you would stand for this, for you were horrified that this would become a norm. How were you supposed to do the mounds of assignments for Science? That goddamn teacher… For once you felt like him, having to deal with the three idiots every day.

A banshee-like screech splashed a few droplets of juice onto your paper. As the orange stained the crisp white into the color of a dead fish, you marched out into the light drizzle of an unusually dark evening, snatching your black coat with a vengeance that shook the one storey building, smashing the picture of your deceased cat by the door.

The sky was a deep shade of Prussian blue, bright speckles of stars twinkled in the expanse; yet you noticed from your uncomfortably bright digital watch that it was only 8.30 p.m. Was this the consequence of global warming? You could take that down as a proposal, but the absurdity made you even more furious than before.

You slipped on the black trench coat you had to shield yourself from the light sheen of rain, and proceeded to stomp down to the little corner house at the end of the street. The population density per square meter began to steeply increase as you neared the area, and you disgustedly passed through them, trying to avoid the ridiculous amounts of skin they were revealing. They don't care about the rain, don't they? You muttered something about inadequate morals in youngsters these days- it made you feel like an old geezer- but seriously! The problem had to be addressed now!

After struggling for what seemed like an eternity through jostling crowds of horny women, you reached the core of the home- and your problems. The pungent odor of alcohol struck you immediately, initiating your gag reflex, but what use would being angry be when you were puking? Your sore ears were assaulted with an extremely skillful drum solo, played by the one and only Antonio. You could swear he was the only one who actually could play music there. His look of intense concentration dissipated as he noticed you, waving with that bright grin of his to miss a few beats of the rhythm. You were already in another segment of the room, ignoring the Spanish man.

Next came Francis. He was just, there, swarmed by women who were entranced by his charm and looks. Surprisingly, over the crowd, he noted you, and gave a slight wink that meant a lot more to him than you. You barely glanced at him before setting your target on the last one.

"Hey bastard! Shut it!" You screamed at Gilbert, who was swinging the microphone in an intense frenzy, but the song reached its loudest climax as you stood there fuming.

Only Antonio saw your fury, and he stopped drumming to place his hands on Gilbert's shoulders to guide him away. Francis merely trailed behind, making sure to shut off the instruments with deft flicks of his hand. You were grateful, as the room had quieted down into hushed whispers. The only evident noise was from the drunk German. Or what he would prefer, _Prussian_.

"Hey! Lemme... go…" he drawled in between tired pants, his eyes slurring in a drunken splendor.

You tapped your foot impatiently as the two men dragged Gilbert off the platform, in front of the crowd's watching eyes.

For the sake of humility, Francis grabbed the audio mike and posed questioningly at the dumbstruck women. "I'm afraid tonight is over ladies, the pleasure is mine to invite you to the next party~!" Gilbert voiced hoarsely after Francis, "Come back next Friday ladies!" You glared at him and growled menacingly. "There will be no next week…" The ladies jostled against you as they reluctantly pushed out of the room.

You huffed and stormed over to the three men, one was grabbing frosted beers from the mini fridge while the other two slumped onto the wrecked couch in the living room. "Fuck..." Francis muttered as he shifted his ass from a loose spring. Antonio handed you a chilled bottle and sprung onto the red abomination, landing on Gilbert's lap.

Gilbert shoved him away and cursed, "I'm not gay you shit!" Antonio grinned like an idiot before popping the cap of the beverage. They had so much energy; playing around like that. You were already sweating buckets despite your inactivity.

"_Votre petite amie est ici_, Gilly." Francis shoved Gilbert, making him let loose the guitar clenched in his right hand. He choked and bugged his eyes at the chortling Frenchman, before turning his wide eyed glare on you. His pupils narrowed evidently as you leant against the crumbling wall, totally oblivious to whatever Francis blurted out.

"You have no fucking idea, don't you?" Gilbert took a swig from his bottle, acting like the 'badass' punk he thought he was. You knew better, having lived with his brother once. Antonio pulled you onto the couch with them, but you only managed to resist a tiny portion of his smiley strength and collapsed onto Gilbert's lap. It was such an awkward position… You, splayed on that idiot's lap.

You jumped up and blushed furiously, brushing yourself down with your bare palms. Gilbert groaned and glared at both of them, sticking out his sparkling tongue rings. "She isn't my fucking girl, Francis. I only date _dames_!" The other two chortled to themselves, leaning further into the mass of red fluff. Gilbert sat there fuming for a while, before turning to you; his piercing red eyes met your (E/C) ones. "The hell are you here for?", he snorted annoyingly. You picked yourself up and crossed your arms, huffing heavily.

"Ye' fucking noise is bugging me! I can't do anything! I got homework due tomorrow, you know!"

"'Whaddya' mean noise? It's mu-"

"Just make out already!" Both of you turned to face Francis, who already left the couch and was chucking his empty glass bottle into the bin. Antonio, exasperatingly, was laughing his ass off while clutching his stomach.

It was pointless.

"I'm fucking done with you freaks." You stormed out of the garage into the now full fledged rain. With your stringy hair slicking to your fuming face, you screamed at them. "I'm telling Ludwig!" You then dashed back home before the rain could pellet you further. Slamming the door behind you again, you sunk onto your knees on your now wet doormat. Why did Francis ship you with Gilbert?


End file.
